


The Sweetest Mistake

by MrsToriPears



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: College, Drunk Sex, M/M, Post-Canon, Weddings, excessive use of lube, possibly less vague later??, stay safe kids, vague depictions of the diddliy do
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 06:54:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12360006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsToriPears/pseuds/MrsToriPears
Summary: The boys try to piece together the foggy memories of aninterestingnight together, while trying to figure out what it all means for the both of them.





	The Sweetest Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> So like I've been sitting on this for a while and I finally decided to just fuckin' POST IT to give myself some motivation to finish it. It's all planned out, just gotta ;; ; ; get it typed out. Uhhhhh I hope you enjoy this silly little beginning to a silly little story!

In between dreams and reality, an incessant buzzing threatened to disturb Jeremy’s much needed sleep. It tangled into his imagination, vibrating frustratingly. Each time the buzz rang out, the words in his throat seized up, stopping him from saying something important. He was starting to forget what exactly it was that he needed to say. His lips formed silent words in desperation, but nothing came out. 

The noise continued and it made him want to scream. But still he remained silent.

A terrifyingly sudden smack to his face jerked him out of his dream and he scrunched his eyes in pain. His nose throbbed from the impact of whatever assaulted him, which remained pressed heavily onto his cheek. He flailed his weak, half-asleep arms to get whatever it was off of him and he sat himself up, blinking his crusty eyes open a tiny crack. It was an arm. The thing that assaulted him - it was an arm that was now laying in his lap awkwardly, bent at an odd angle from reaching across the bed. 

There was a lot going on at that moment in Jeremy’s head. Most notable for him was his severe, pounding headache. Everything seemed foggy, like his brain was still trying to catch up with the rest of the world. The next thing he realized was the unusual but very true fact that he was completely and utterly nude. A strong smell of body odour and something synthetically sweet hit his nose. Was that… lube? His eyes followed the arm in his lap as it retreated back to it’s owner, and a chill of dread launched down his spine.

Lying beside him was a disheveled, equally as nude Michael Mell.

For a moment his senses blanked out on him and he couldn’t register anything else. Just Michael, lying beside him, chest bare, arm draped over his stomach, with a furrowed expression on his sleeping face. Jeremy’s heartbeat raced, thumping along with the repeating buzz of his phone alarm and making him dizzy and muddled and confused. He was snapped out of his staring by Michael whipping his arm out and hitting Jeremy’s pillow with a thwack, right where his face had been moments ago. He grumbled as he turned onto his side away from him in a drowsy, half-asleep tone, “mmmph… phone….”

Oh god, his phone. Jeremy scrambled around searching for his cell phone, holding the blanket in one hand to ensure everything below his hips was covered. He located it at the corner of the headboard on his side and clumsily took three tries to swipe the dismiss prompt. The annoying buzzing stopped and he sighed, tossing his phone down at his legs.

Jeremy barely recognized the room he was in, wooden panelling and earthy red tones - like some sort of log cabin. The bed frame looked as if it had been built out of the most strangely shaped logs that had been pulled off of the beach, and gave off a hint of natural wood smell. There were empty cans of cider on the headboard. One of them was tipped over and had dripped onto the most likely expensive wood, creating a sticky and pungent stain. The sheets were a burgundy checkered pattern - and they were very notably soiled.

Oh god. The _wedding_. This was Chloe’s parent’s house- or you could probably even call it a mansion it was so enormous. Jeremy’s mind started to refocus, memories flooding back to him. Brooke and Chloe’s wedding. The ceremony, seeing Michael at the front - Brooke’s best man, he looked… amazing in his suit- his suit? Jeremy’s thoughts trailed, and he remembered something happening at the reception. A clumsy stumble onto Michael’s back with a plate in his hands, whipped cream and custard smeared onto his brand new, fitted suit. He didn’t even think he had been that drunk yet. And then Michael had grumbled at him, something like that, and then he took off his jacket…

The back of his neck and his ears grew warm. He wasn’t supposed to have that kind of thought about his best friend. It didn’t quite make sense, why did Jeremy Heere, all of a sudden, at that moment, think ‘ _Michael is fucking hot_ ’? Sure, it had been a while since he had last seen him. Sure, it was the first time he had seen him dressed up so nicely - he hadn’t even worn a proper suit to prom, just a loose button up and a sloppy tie, as per the usual ‘Why can’t I just be comfortable’ Michael. And maybe he had gotten a little bit more, er, _toned_ since high school. But when Jeremy had seen the way his tight shirt hugged his chest, and when he unbuttoned those first few buttons- this train of thought had to stop.

The memories got blurry after that, a huge outdoor party, the DJ was pretty rockin’, people were dancing and singing, everyone was there, and there was a lot of Michael. Everywhere.

He really, really needed a shower. He was sweating, overheated to all hell - the heavy blanket was not helping, but he was not going to be taking it off of himself any time soon. And there was a gross, slightly sticky substance that he could feel when he rubbed his legs together, slathered all around his crotch and the front of his pelvis. He reached down with a finger and brought a sample to his nose.

Yeah, that was lube. Mango flavoured lube.

Slowly, he turned his head towards the person snoring beside him. Michael was lying on his stomach now, face smushed into his pillow - god knows where his glasses had ended up, as they were nowhere that Jeremy could see. His back was bare, blanket covering from part of his hip down, one leg poking out and hanging off the bed. Half of an exposed asscheek was the final confirmation that yes, Michael was indeed naked under the covers. 

His skin looked soft and smooth to the touch. Jeremy could almost feel it, a ghost of a sensation on the tips of his fingers, trailing them along Michael’s sides, his back, his thighs. His hair was tousled and greasy, and there were marks along the back and sides of his neck. Bite marks. Red and bruising, defined. When he looked at them the sensation of pressing his teeth into the tender areas of his neck came over him, and a memory of a desperate moan echoed in his mind.

So, Jeremy could pretty much make out what exactly had happened here. He wasn’t stupid, all of the evidence was there, it was just that he had next to no memory of what had gone down. Or… _who_ had gone down. Evidently, _he_ had by the sour taste in his mouth.

He had slept with Michael. That’s what had happened. He had… slept… with _Michael_. His groggy brain was slow on the uptake, but that only made the realization hit him that much harder. The consequences, the repercussions, the complex feelings and histories and everything all crashed into him at full brute force and he gasped out loud in shock.

_I fucked my best friend_.

He was sweating, gripping the blanket covering the bare lower regions of his body so hard that his hands shook. His head pounded, even the small threads of sunlight peering in through the blinds were too much for him, throbs of pain reverberating through his forehead.

He put his hands over his face, both shielding himself from the light and from having to look at Michael, as if he could avoid what had happened by pretending he wasn’t there. Of all people, why had it ended up being _Michael_? It wasn’t his first drunk hookup. There had been a few trips out to the bar with his college buddies that had landed him in unfamiliar apartments. But it was certainly his first drunk hook up with a guy. Rather, first hook up with a guy at all.

It was only very recently that he’d started to question his sexuality. The ironic part of that was it had been Michael that he had first opened up to about it, a few months ago over skype.

‘How did you know you were gay?’ He had timidly asked over his headset microphone. They often had late night skype talks like this, keeping in touch the best they could while living in dorms that were hours apart from each other. Nearly every day after coming home from classes he would immediately whip on his headset and they would game, or watch movies, or just talk for hours until they fell asleep. There had been multiple occasions where Jeremy had woken up with a sore neck and ears, and a 12 hour skype call still going. He couldn’t always hear it, but sometimes he’d catch Michael snoring into his microphone on the other side. It always made him smile.

Of course, Michael was great about the whole ‘questioning’ thing, instantly accepting and understanding - and only teasing him a tiny bit. So it’s not like being with a guy was uncalled for. When he had first started thinking about possibly being Bi, the thought of sex had been a little daunting. But apparently it had gone… He peeked over at Michael, glancing at fingertip-sized bruises on his exposed hip.

… Apparently it had gone pretty goddamn well. 

There was a sudden shifting of blankets as Michael stirred in his sleep, nearly giving Jeremy a heart attack. Apparently he was much too hot under the covers, as he kicked them down to the end of the bed and right off of Jeremy, exposing his indecency.

Jeremy let out a yelp and chased after the blanket, crawling on all fours. Startled by the sound and the jostling of the bed, Michael lifted his head from his pillow and glanced over towards him with drowsy eyes. Coming face to face with Jeremy’s ass.

“ _Jesus Christ!_ ” Michael yelled, jumping back and pressing against the headboard, suddenly wide awake. At the sound of Michael’s voice Jeremy attempted to turn around, ending in him misjudging the size of the bed. His knee slipped off of the side and he plummeted to the ground onto his side, slightly cushioned by a garish-looking rug.

Mortified and panicked, he grabbed the blanket and held it against him, covering his front, and he stood back up on shaky legs at the end of the bed. This left Michael, as they both quickly realized, with absolutely nothing to shield Jeremy’s eyes from locking directly onto Michael’s uncovered dick. 

Jeremy went bright red, staring for a few seconds too long. Michael frantically tried to cover himself with one hand before tugging over the pillow that had been sandwiched behind him, flushing and yelling frantically in the confusion.

“What the fuck!! Jeremy!? That was _your_ ass just now!?” There was something odd about his voice, raspy and strained.

“Mike-!”

“Why am I naked?!”

“Michael, calm d-”

“Why are _you_ naked?!”

Jeremy held the blanket up to his face, covering his entire body from being seen by Michael while simultaneously preventing himself from staring. “Um, uh, you- I think, uh- Well-” he sputtered nervously.

Michael went silent, and Jeremy’s stomach dropped. He gulped and peeked a bit over the blanket, almost scared of whatever expression he might find on Michael’s face. What he saw was his friend, entirely flustered, his mouth open in a silent, disbelieving gasp. His wide eyes were staring a hole through Jeremy’s chest, and he clutched the pillow in his lap for dear life.

“Jeremy did we-?!”

“I think so!” Jeremy shrieked back, shutting his eyes and thrusting the blanket into his face.

“Wait…. Wait, you don’t remember either?” There was a pause before Michael spoke again as he scrambled to find another answer to this outrageous circumstance. “M-maybe we… maybe we didn’t, maybe, uh, maybe we just…” He trailed off, giving up on that train of thought. “Fuck, Jeremy, we- we had sex, didn’t we?”

Jeremy let his arms drop, holding the blanket at his stomach. He had a sad grimace on his face as he nodded. What use was it pretending it didn’t happen? It was obvious, there was so much evidence - messy, messy evidence. The sheets, the taste, the pain in his scalp - though he wasn’t quite sure what that was from. And the… vague memories? The sound of a creaking bed frame, a headboard slamming against the wall. The feeling of warm arms wrapped around him, grasping desperately. As he thought about it that memory came back, those unrestrained moans crying out, and he remembered hearing his own name.

_J-Jeremy, Jeremy, oh fuck, Jer-!_

“Whoa, Jeremy.” The real Michael spoke up, gawking at him. “Your… your _chest_.”

“What?” He jerked his head down to look at himself. It took him a few seconds to realize what exactly Michael was freaking out about. But then he saw them. Purple splotches dotted all over his chest, trailing from his collarbone, around his nipples, and all the way down… he peeked under the blanket. Yeah, all the way down. “Oh my god!” His cheeks flushed, as if he weren’t red enough already, and he tried to cover himself up again.

A horrible, twisting ball of dread was forming in his stomach. He felt so compromised. It was so awkward. What were they going to do now? He didn’t think he was ready to think about what all of this meant, if it meant anything at all, if he wanted it to mean anything, what Michael thought about all of this. The pulsing pain in his head was getting worse, and he felt like he was going to throw up and then-

And then Michael just started _laughing_ , and it’s like a light came to life in his chest. The bubbly sound lifted him up and for a moment he felt like he could forget everything. Michael clutched his sides and his eyes squeezed shut. The sight made Jeremy lightheaded. It’s the laugh that he’d heard so many times, over so many years together. Easily, like there was nothing wrong at all, he found himself laughing along with him.

Michael stopped his laughter for a moment to snicker out, “That’s kind of messed up,” at Jeremy, and he started to falter, light feeling fading.

“Y-Yeah that’s… that’s kind of fucked, isn’t it?” He laughed back, trying to force himself to look at Michael but failing.

“Haha, oh my god, wow.” Michael said as he brushed his greasy bangs out of his face. “That totally happened. Weird.”

Yeah, weird.”

“Like,” Michael started, gesturing flippantly with his hands, occasionally going back to hold the pillow in place. “I kind of expected, as best man, to get laid but wow. I did not think it was going to be _you_.” He smiled humorously, but his words jabbed into Jeremy like spears, churning inside of his stomach unpleasantly.

“Sorry,” Jeremy nervously apologized with a slightly miffed expression on his face.

Michael quickly backtracked, waving his arms at Jeremy. “Oh, no dude don’t apologize, it was just a mistake! We were both fucked up, we weren’t thinking.” And he was right, of course, but for some reason he felt smaller, and the room felt so much bigger, and he just wanted to crawl into himself and hide. A mistake. A mistake. Michael said it was a mistake, sleeping with him. He couldn’t quite understand why that hurt him so much.

“Yeah, uh… a mistake.”

“Yeah, it totally didn’t mean anything, or anything!” Michael seemed desperate, a little hysterical, with his voice high and a wobbly smile on his face. Jeez. He didn’t realize how much of a bad thing this was to have happened, how appalling the idea must be to him. Jeremy took a sharp breath through his nose and put on the most casual smile he could muster.

“Of course not.”

Michael nodded. And suddenly it was like some strange, almost palpable fog of tension draped over the room, weighing heavily on Jeremy’s shoulders and seizing his throat closed. Neither of them could seem to think of anything else to say, or do, or even bring themselves to look at each other. That was possibly for an understandable reason, however, as they were still so… very... naked. That probably needed to be addressed. Just as Jeremy was contemplating where he might find a shower in this place (or where his spare clothes were… they didn’t seem to be in this room), there was a quick knock on the door and a jiggling of a doorknob as someone burst into the room.

“Michael, you up yet? Have you seen Jer…” Christine froze in the doorway, dragging out her word as the second pair of eyes that day bored right into Jeremy’s completely bare ass.

Jeremy let out an extremely unmanly squeal of “ _Christine!_ ” as he whipped around to face her and turn his exposed backside away, only to realize that now, Michael would be able to see it. He spun around confusedly, trying to wrap the blanket around himself and ending up horrendously tangled. One of his feet caught on the corner of the blanket and he toppled backwards, the back of his head landing with a gross smack on the edge of the wooden storage chest at the end of the bed. Stars flickered in his vision before he dropped onto the ground pathetically, the whole world fading out to black.

**Author's Note:**

> Hhhh not much has happened yet but man do I have stuff planned for yall. Um, leave some feedback if you'd like!! I'd really appreciate it!


End file.
